Perecptor/Grimlock
*Mod note - this was done last night, and it was completely my fault that it wasn't posted. I thought I had starred all the stories which I'd gotten over a couple days to make it easier to post them all one by one, and I missed this one.
Title: Wisdom in Love
Author: tainry
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Characters and concepts copyright HasTak
Warnings: plug-n-play
Prompt: 'What if' Grimlock hadn't given away his intelligence in 'Grimlock's New Brain' causing Perceptor to become completely infatuated with the dinobot? Perceptor being swept away by Grimlock's new vocabulary, Grimlock being romantically clueless despite his intelligence, someone else becoming confused by Perceptor's behaviour.
3,480 words.
Wisdom is not in reason, but in love.
--André Gide
“Hey! Take it easy, there, Perceptor, what’s the rush?” Springer hopped out of the way as the scientist ran by. Perceptor stopped for a moment.
“I do apologize, Springer. Grimlock is giving a lecture on Quantum Chromodynamics and I don’t want to be late, but that’s no excuse to run over my friends.” He waved and ran off again.
Springer gaped after him. Grimlock was lecturing on what?
Lightspeed had saved him a seat, so Perceptor needn’t have been so precipitous, but he knew well his own tendency to linger in the lab, getting in just one more observation or making one more microweld. It was beneficial to be early rather than late. Grimlock had not yet arrived, so Perceptor and Lightspeed chatted about space travel - Lightspeed waxing poetic, Perceptor pointing out that there was joy and tedium combined.
The approaching footsteps were unmistakable and the small gathering hushed as Grimlock entered. Without preamble he launched into the lecture, moving the podium out of the way - Grimlock required no notes, and preferred unencumbered pacing room as he spoke. Perceptor watched as much as listened, delegating one subroutine to record the lecture while the rest of his CPU appreciated the Dinobot’s restless, sinuously powerful movements, doubtless reflecting the restless power of his mind.
After the lecture, Perceptor contrived to intercept Grimlock in the hallway. “Ratchet and Wheeljack would be exceedingly proud of you,” He said quietly, smiling. Grimlock stared at him.
With a rush, Grimlock transformed to robot mode - something he rarely did any more - and enveloped Perceptor in a hug. “I Grimlock miss them, too,” he murmured, squeezing. Perceptor’s armor creaked in protest, and Grimlock eased his embrace.
“I know you do,” Perceptor said, leaning into Grimlock’s heat and bulk.
Grimlock released him just as abruptly, resuming his T. rex mode. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have important repairs to make on the Phase Variation Transference Accelerator.” Sludge had sent the device flying across the Alpha-sector hangar with his tail the last time the other Dinobots had gotten annoyed with their leader’s lack of interest in their habitual pursuits. Perhaps it had been an accident.
“Might I be of any assistance?”
“No, these are delicate repairs, requiring precision and timing of a sort your limited mind cannot encompass.”
Perceptor watched him stalk off, tail making dangerous arabesques in the air. But after a few strides, Grimlock stopped, and peered over his shoulder at him. “You would aid me? Willingly?”
“Of course I would.”
“Very well. I believe you are capable of holding the Cryopulse Module steady while I reattach it.”
Grinning to himself, Perceptor followed him to the laboratory.
=+=+=+=+=+=
They returned from their adventure with the Zamojin only a little the worse for wear, and pleased to have once again thwarted the Quintessons. Perceptor and Blurr headed for the med-lab so First Aid could run a few diagnostics, just to be sure the hasty repairs of Blurr’s bent strut and Perceptor’s Universal Emulator had been sufficient. After his exam, Blurr sped off on some errand or other. First Aid reseated the Emulator slightly but pronounced that Perceptor’s own internal repair systems were already correcting any minor damage that remained.
“As I thought,” Perceptor said. “Thank you.” He peered around First Aid’s shoulder. “I think you have a visitor.”
Blades was leaning against the door frame, waiting with an air of assumed patience. “Hi, Perceptor,” he said.
“Blades.” First Aid stowed the medical scanner in its niche in the ceiling. “Are we packed already?” The Protectobots were going back to Earth for a few months to assist the humans after the latest large earthquake in Southeast Asia - Earth was more their home planet than Cybertron anyway.
“Yeah. Come on, we should recharge before heading out.”
“You’d best go, First Aid,” Perceptor said. “Blades is as persistent as Beachcomber when he wants to be. I’ll shut down the lab for you. I was going to see how my Omnistrychnos atrox cultures were doing in any case.”
“Thanks, Perceptor,” Blades and First Aid said in unison. Perceptor smiled. Typical gestalts.
Hours later, Perceptor transformed from his microscope mode, stretching until his joints creaked. He should head in for recharge too. A quiet but solid footstep at the door made him turn. “Good evening, Grimlock,” he said, smiling. Grimlock stalked over to him, leaning down to peer at his insignia.
Having Grimlock stare so intensely at his chest made Perceptor feel …a bit odd. Grimlock straightened and impelled him toward the nearest repair table, picking the scientist up bodily and placing him on it.
“Pardon me, but…what are you doing?” Perceptor sounded what the humans called breathless even to his own audio receptors.
“You are the sole possessor of a Universal Emulator,” Grimlock said, pushing Perceptor down flat. “Unless the Junkions have one, but I would not base any serious calculations on that probability.”
“Grimlock, I ran diagnostics on all of us on our way back to Cybertron. And First Aid repeated them. I’m fine, I can assure you.” He yelped as Grimlock pulled the stage of his microscope form out of the way. “Aaahhh! Nnncareful, Grimlock,” Perceptor gasped. “I am fragile, remember, compared to you.”
Tracing the edges of Perceptor’s insignia with one claw, Grimlock rubbed at the slight carbon scoring still marring the scientist’s chassis. “Really, Perceptor, do try to keep still.” He lowered the medical scanner, which he had lately improved, from the ceiling and set it to run a comprehensive series of scans. It only took a few moments.
“Well?”
“Blurr reported that the Universal Emulator was dropped to the deck of the Quintesson vessel at one point. However there appear to be no impurities that might impede the connection points.”
“Of course not. Do you really think I’d let them reinstall it without at least dusting it off first?” Perceptor laughed at the image that sprang to his mind of Ultra Magnus rubbing the Emulator on his armor like a human polishing an apple.
“Your core temperature is 90 degrees Kelvin above normal,” Grimlock said, a bit sulkily.
“Mmm. Imagine that,” Perceptor purred, sitting up and sliding from the table in one fluid movement. When Grimlock gave no ground, the scientist reached up and traced Grimlock’s insignia, outlining each section of the stylized Autobot face, taking his time about it.
“What you do…what are you doing…?” Grimlock’s voice rumbled through Perceptor’s entire chassis.
“How is your core temperature, hm?” Stepping neatly around him, a jaunty set to his cannon, Perceptor left Grimlock to his thoughts.
Grimlock pondered the requirements of an experiment to determine why touching an Autobot’s insignia might cause their temperature to rise. He wondered if something similar happened to Decepticons.
=+=+=+=+=+=
“Good morning, Grimlock, what are you working on today?”
Grimlock didn’t look up from his instruments, but answered more promptly than he usually did when immersed in a project. “I Grimlock am studying the mechanism for bioluminescence in the dinoflagellate Noctiluca scintillans. It is one of the few chemical reactions completely new to Cybertronian science.”
“Oh, do please say that again,” Perceptor said. Grimlock stared at him.
“Are your auditory receptors malfunctioning?”
“Not at all. You simply have such a pleasant voice I wished to hear you say ‘Noctiluca scintillans’ again.” Perceptor beamed at him.
To Grimlock’s astonishment, he found himself fascinated by the particular arrangement and alignment of Perceptor’s face plates. His optics gleamed in a remarkably compelling manner. Like…Grimlock cast about for an apropos metaphor. Like twin stellar nebulae false-colored to enhance the x-ray spectrum, swimming in a space that was not lightless but silvery. Although perhaps polished aluminum was closer in color to Perceptor’s face. All that was neither here nor there and Grimlock had no idea why he should contemplate such nonsense. It would be disturbing if he had spent more than a single astrosecond on it.
“How are your dinoflagellates doing?” Perceptor asked, when the silence had gone on for a significant fraction of a breem. “They look happy enough. Eating their diatoms like good little plankton?” He leaned toward the columnar tank, lenses poised, though his optics lingered on Grimlock’s face.
“You are a strange mechanism,” Grimlock said. “But it would be boring if all people were the same.”
“Quite probable,” Perceptor agreed, smiling.
=+=+=+=+=+=
No one expected this kind of thinking from him. But after the fourth millennia of the war he had been programmed to assess tactical situations, and the basic logistics of his current quandary weren’t so very different. Normally he wasn’t this impatient in such matters, but time was a fickle friend these days.
It wasn’t difficult to find Grimlock alone. Most people could no longer follow Grimlock’s seemingly convoluted but simply very advanced discourse, so he was often left to his own admittedly remarkably useful devices. And as much as the Technobots loved their creator, they did have their own duties to perform. The tertiary hangar storage bay where Grimlock did a lot of his tinkering with shuttle parts would do nicely.
Currently, Grimlock had an entire Gravitic Fluoropositron Warp Emitter disassembled and arranged on a workbench and was cleaning, inspecting and slowly reassembling all the parts. Which meant, Perceptor had come to understand, that Grimlock was thinking deeply about something else entirely. Perceptor crossed the space, careful not to disturb any of the machinery lying about in various stages of invention, decrepitude or repair. He found a clear space on the workbench upon which to rest an elbow and waited until a slight pause in the motion of Grimlock’s hands indicated that at least some of Grimlock’s attention had shifted in his direction.
“The Energon converters in our bodies,” Perceptor began, as seductively as several million years of experience permitted, “convert virtually any other type of energy into the one exquisitely complex form we can use. But, Grimlock, what if,” he moved closer, lowered his voice, “what if we could change ourselves, transform ourselves so that we would not need that extra step? What if we could find a way not to need Energon at all?”
Grimlock dropped his hydrospanner.
“It’s not such a revolutionary idea, you know,” Perceptor continued. “Others have thought of it, including Alpha Trion himself. But no one yet has been able to make it work.”
Autobots had little concept of personal space - gestalts had none at all - but Grimlock had been practically tripping over Perceptor for months. And now he was…well, if Grimlock had a lap, Perceptor would be in it. It was a peculiarly pleasant proximity. The scientist bent down and retrieved the spanner, placing it in Grimlock’s hand. He didn’t let go.
Grimlock felt the contact leap like a static charge up his arm and across his chest. And suddenly Grimlock understood what was going on. What had been going on. He seized Perceptor by the shoulders - nice blocky shoulders, Pythagorean solids - and impelled him toward a clear area of floor, away from anything that was easily damaged. Expressions of love and friendship among the Dinobots generally involved a lot of sharp-edged mouths, twining tails, horns, spikes, body slams and laughter. Perceptor could not withstand such treatment. Grimlock supposed that employing a delicate touch, while perhaps frustrating, might also be quite interesting.
More than happy to take up his part in this dance, Perceptor stroked the sleek white metal of Grimlock’s slender arms. It was an intriguing contrast. The rest of Grimlock’s body had been constructed for sheer brute power, yet, like the organic model for his saurian mode, the arms were inexplicably gracile. There were three fingers on each hand, unlike the original’s two; as though somehow Wheeljack and Ratchet had known Grimlock would need greater dexterity.
“I…apologize for my unkind words to you the day I received my vast intelligence,” Grimlock said. “I now understand your frustration with Dinobot brains. I truly would never harm you, Perceptor; your brains, though limited compared to mine, are too valuable to the Autobots.” Grimlock paused. The Dinobots could function with higher internal temperatures than other Autobots, but the things his systems were doing were still disconcerting. It was difficult to concentrate on speaking.
“I never thought you meant it,” Perceptor admitted, trailing his fingertips across Grimlock’s chest. “If for no other reason than you knew it would upset Rodimus.” Though no part of Grimlock’s chassis was especially vulnerable, the red indentations along the caudal margin of his thorax seemed to be more sensitive than much of the rest of his armor, if the slight shivering Grimlock was responding with was any indication. “And I was rather more acerbic with you than was strictly necessary.” He leaned into the touch as Grimlock rather gingerly caressed his face.
Small movements, careful pressure, Grimlock reminded himself sharply, fighting the urge to bite, to taste. This was going to get dangerous. Must not throw Perceptor across the room to have the fun of leaping after him and landing in a snarling, giggling heap on the floor. No. The Power Core was deep, and it must have been more intimately linked to Vector Sigma than anyone realized, but there was nothing in the terrible span of knowledge Grimlock had gained that prepared him to control his body’s savage reflexes like this. He groaned, clenching his jaws shut.
Encouraged, Perceptor pressed closer, his light cannon tipped behind him, their armor clanging softly. He nestled his head under Grimlock’s chin, reaching his arms around the Dinobot’s torso as far as he could. It was wonderful to have someone so solid and warm to hold.
Grimlock kept still, not even needing to brace against Perceptor’s weight. His tail quivered, but he thought if he could keep his feet in place perhaps he could retain some measure of self-possession. Perceptor’s hands were too clever by far. The scientist needed distracting. Lenses. The lenses would be - would need to be - sensitive. Grimlock ran a single fingertip around the forward end of the light cannon. Perceptor gasped and arched against him. Of course. No one touched him there casually, not when he could pip the ace, so to speak, at a range of 2000 miles.
Stroking the length of the cannon’s housing, Grimlock paid special attention to the pivot, where the control wires emerged from Perceptor’s shoulder. Perceptor swung the cannon up, closer to reach. He clung to Grimlock, his smaller body giving off more heat than was recommended by the specifications of his size class. Grimlock liked the feel of him against his chest and belly; and liked the helpless-sounding little noises the scientist was making too, though perhaps that had more to do with Grimlock’s prey drive than was safe. But from the way Perceptor’s optics were flickering and his knees were buckling, he couldn’t be far from overload already.
The next thing he knew, Grimlock was flat on his back with a crash that shook the bay, Perceptor leaping nimbly on top of him. Perceptor hadn't bent his knees in weakness, he’d employed some kind of human judo move and flipped Grimlock completely over. The scientist extended a cervical cable - second closest to the CPU - and held up the gold-tipped end, cocking his head questioningly. “Swoop warned me about the usual Dinobot roughhousing,” Perceptor said gently, as Grimlock gaped at him. “You’ve been astoundingly restrained so far. Thank you. But Swoop also said you fellows rarely bother with cables. I’d like to, though, if it is agreeable to you?”
The only logical thing to do at this point was to open the panel just beneath the corner of his jaw to expose the port. Perceptor inserted the cable with a deft touch, unfurling the data link slowly. Letting Grimlock grow accustomed to the blooming of sensation and shared thoughts and emotions.
Centimeter by centimeter, Perceptor lowered himself till he was lying flat on Grimlock’s chest. Touch my lens endcap now, he prompted through the link, smiling.
Finding honest admiration and desire where he thought to find cleverly-buried jealousy, Grimlock complied. Power seared through his haptic circuits, rising and falling with Perceptor’s cries of pleasure. He didn’t want to stop touching Perceptor’s cannon, didn’t want to stop feeling what Perceptor felt as he did so. But there were many places on and in Perceptor’s body and mind that merited further, thorough investigation. Grimlock’s slender, clawed fingers slipped into narrow spaces where plates of armor overlapped at the joints.
Perceptor liked being explored. He moved in ways that made it easier. He hummed and sighed and laughed sometimes, low at the bottom of his vocal register when a touch crossed the short bridge from caress to tickle. He opened himself up so Grimlock could feel his liking, too.
Disconnecting the cable for a moment, Grimlock transformed to his more vulnerable and therefore sensitive robot mode - so swiftly and neatly Perceptor remained in place. Impressive, the scientist thrummed once the link was reestablished. It would not be possible for Perceptor to duplicate such a feat, but he took pleasure in Grimlock’s skill. Grimlock rolled them over, nuzzling the side of Perceptor’s helm; because Grimlock did not have a mouth made for kissing.
Limbs tangled, fingers scraping long lines down metal bodies, they sank into each other. Grimlock held Perceptor tight, trusting enough to give Perceptor access to all the knowledge he’d gained. In return, he found himself swimming through all the long eons of Perceptor’s experience. Joy and sorrow, the poignant and the absurd, commingling in their minds. Perceptor directed the energy flow at first, showing Grimlock how the rising spiral of thoughts enhanced rather than distracted from their physical pleasure.
Feeling the beginnings of the inexorable climb coursing through every circuit, Grimlock unhappily but deliberately places his hands on the floor to either side of Perceptor’s shoulders. His clenching fists would otherwise do damage and the shaking was already starting, core overheating, peripheral processors falling to static, everything twinned and amplified through the data link, and Perceptor’s body was so small and sweet beneath his, laser core so small to be so bright, mind so old to still hold such childlike wonder, and Perceptor laughed as power surged like a wave over their heads, tumbling them like schools of bright fish into the processor-storm of overload.
The insignia’s red matched the chassis beneath his head. Grimlock traced the outlines of that ancient, iconic face; his fingertip kept from actual contact by the transparent not-glass of Perceptor’s microscope-mode stage. Perceptor’s optics flickered on.
“One of the cornerstones of the scientific method is repeatable experiments,” Perceptor murmured, reaching up to caress Grimlock’s face.
“Indubitably,” Grimlock rumbled. And rolled them over again.
=+=+=+=+=+=
After the fourth overload, Perceptor didn’t come back online, slipping instead straight into recharge. Very well pleased indeed, Grimlock left the scientist where he was, faintly purring and draped across him like a cat.
=+=+=+=+=+=
“You’re modeling higher-cell four dimensional solids in your CPU, aren’t you,” Perceptor murmured. His optics were off. He moved nothing but his lip components and the small charge to his vocalizer, though he could feel his native briskness slowly returning.
“How can you tell?”
“Because I can feel you tracing edges and counting vertices on my hip.”
The swirling arcs made by Grimlock’s fingers halted for a moment, then resumed. “Ah.”
“Don’t stop. Do the 600 cell next.”
Grimlock chuckled, and drew the mandala of fourteen thousand and four hundred symmetries.
=+=+=+=+=+=
Since he wasn’t in the main hangar bay proper, Springer figured Grimlock must be in his “Tinkering Room” over on the north side. Something had gone wrong with the sensor array in the Epsilon Quadrant, and Rodimus wanted Springer to fly Grimlock out there to fix it ASAP. Springer came around a precarious stack of empty storage containers, peering through the open door. There was a lot of Grimlock’s junk in the way, but he thought he caught a glimpse of white metal arms moving. One bounding stride closer and he was sure.
White arms, white hands moving in lazy circles, glints of metallic red and teal. And someone’s dark grey aft. Springer clapped a hand over his optics and retreated with a reflexive leap, wishing to Prime he hadn’t seen what he’d seen, or heard that sleepy moan.
For the love of Vector Sigma, why couldn’t the two most brilliant minds on Cybertron have thought to close the slagging door?
Title: Wisdom in Love
Author: tainry
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Characters and concepts copyright HasTak
Warnings: plug-n-play
Prompt: 'What if' Grimlock hadn't given away his intelligence in 'Grimlock's New Brain' causing Perceptor to become completely infatuated with the dinobot? Perceptor being swept away by Grimlock's new vocabulary, Grimlock being romantically clueless despite his intelligence, someone else becoming confused by Perceptor's behaviour.
3,480 words.
Wisdom is not in reason, but in love.
--André Gide
“Hey! Take it easy, there, Perceptor, what’s the rush?” Springer hopped out of the way as the scientist ran by. Perceptor stopped for a moment.
“I do apologize, Springer. Grimlock is giving a lecture on Quantum Chromodynamics and I don’t want to be late, but that’s no excuse to run over my friends.” He waved and ran off again.
Springer gaped after him. Grimlock was lecturing on what?
Lightspeed had saved him a seat, so Perceptor needn’t have been so precipitous, but he knew well his own tendency to linger in the lab, getting in just one more observation or making one more microweld. It was beneficial to be early rather than late. Grimlock had not yet arrived, so Perceptor and Lightspeed chatted about space travel - Lightspeed waxing poetic, Perceptor pointing out that there was joy and tedium combined.
The approaching footsteps were unmistakable and the small gathering hushed as Grimlock entered. Without preamble he launched into the lecture, moving the podium out of the way - Grimlock required no notes, and preferred unencumbered pacing room as he spoke. Perceptor watched as much as listened, delegating one subroutine to record the lecture while the rest of his CPU appreciated the Dinobot’s restless, sinuously powerful movements, doubtless reflecting the restless power of his mind.
After the lecture, Perceptor contrived to intercept Grimlock in the hallway. “Ratchet and Wheeljack would be exceedingly proud of you,” He said quietly, smiling. Grimlock stared at him.
With a rush, Grimlock transformed to robot mode - something he rarely did any more - and enveloped Perceptor in a hug. “I Grimlock miss them, too,” he murmured, squeezing. Perceptor’s armor creaked in protest, and Grimlock eased his embrace.
“I know you do,” Perceptor said, leaning into Grimlock’s heat and bulk.
Grimlock released him just as abruptly, resuming his T. rex mode. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have important repairs to make on the Phase Variation Transference Accelerator.” Sludge had sent the device flying across the Alpha-sector hangar with his tail the last time the other Dinobots had gotten annoyed with their leader’s lack of interest in their habitual pursuits. Perhaps it had been an accident.
“Might I be of any assistance?”
“No, these are delicate repairs, requiring precision and timing of a sort your limited mind cannot encompass.”
Perceptor watched him stalk off, tail making dangerous arabesques in the air. But after a few strides, Grimlock stopped, and peered over his shoulder at him. “You would aid me? Willingly?”
“Of course I would.”
“Very well. I believe you are capable of holding the Cryopulse Module steady while I reattach it.”
Grinning to himself, Perceptor followed him to the laboratory.
=+=+=+=+=+=
They returned from their adventure with the Zamojin only a little the worse for wear, and pleased to have once again thwarted the Quintessons. Perceptor and Blurr headed for the med-lab so First Aid could run a few diagnostics, just to be sure the hasty repairs of Blurr’s bent strut and Perceptor’s Universal Emulator had been sufficient. After his exam, Blurr sped off on some errand or other. First Aid reseated the Emulator slightly but pronounced that Perceptor’s own internal repair systems were already correcting any minor damage that remained.
“As I thought,” Perceptor said. “Thank you.” He peered around First Aid’s shoulder. “I think you have a visitor.”
Blades was leaning against the door frame, waiting with an air of assumed patience. “Hi, Perceptor,” he said.
“Blades.” First Aid stowed the medical scanner in its niche in the ceiling. “Are we packed already?” The Protectobots were going back to Earth for a few months to assist the humans after the latest large earthquake in Southeast Asia - Earth was more their home planet than Cybertron anyway.
“Yeah. Come on, we should recharge before heading out.”
“You’d best go, First Aid,” Perceptor said. “Blades is as persistent as Beachcomber when he wants to be. I’ll shut down the lab for you. I was going to see how my Omnistrychnos atrox cultures were doing in any case.”
“Thanks, Perceptor,” Blades and First Aid said in unison. Perceptor smiled. Typical gestalts.
Hours later, Perceptor transformed from his microscope mode, stretching until his joints creaked. He should head in for recharge too. A quiet but solid footstep at the door made him turn. “Good evening, Grimlock,” he said, smiling. Grimlock stalked over to him, leaning down to peer at his insignia.
Having Grimlock stare so intensely at his chest made Perceptor feel …a bit odd. Grimlock straightened and impelled him toward the nearest repair table, picking the scientist up bodily and placing him on it.
“Pardon me, but…what are you doing?” Perceptor sounded what the humans called breathless even to his own audio receptors.
“You are the sole possessor of a Universal Emulator,” Grimlock said, pushing Perceptor down flat. “Unless the Junkions have one, but I would not base any serious calculations on that probability.”
“Grimlock, I ran diagnostics on all of us on our way back to Cybertron. And First Aid repeated them. I’m fine, I can assure you.” He yelped as Grimlock pulled the stage of his microscope form out of the way. “Aaahhh! Nnncareful, Grimlock,” Perceptor gasped. “I am fragile, remember, compared to you.”
Tracing the edges of Perceptor’s insignia with one claw, Grimlock rubbed at the slight carbon scoring still marring the scientist’s chassis. “Really, Perceptor, do try to keep still.” He lowered the medical scanner, which he had lately improved, from the ceiling and set it to run a comprehensive series of scans. It only took a few moments.
“Well?”
“Blurr reported that the Universal Emulator was dropped to the deck of the Quintesson vessel at one point. However there appear to be no impurities that might impede the connection points.”
“Of course not. Do you really think I’d let them reinstall it without at least dusting it off first?” Perceptor laughed at the image that sprang to his mind of Ultra Magnus rubbing the Emulator on his armor like a human polishing an apple.
“Your core temperature is 90 degrees Kelvin above normal,” Grimlock said, a bit sulkily.
“Mmm. Imagine that,” Perceptor purred, sitting up and sliding from the table in one fluid movement. When Grimlock gave no ground, the scientist reached up and traced Grimlock’s insignia, outlining each section of the stylized Autobot face, taking his time about it.
“What you do…what are you doing…?” Grimlock’s voice rumbled through Perceptor’s entire chassis.
“How is your core temperature, hm?” Stepping neatly around him, a jaunty set to his cannon, Perceptor left Grimlock to his thoughts.
Grimlock pondered the requirements of an experiment to determine why touching an Autobot’s insignia might cause their temperature to rise. He wondered if something similar happened to Decepticons.
=+=+=+=+=+=
“Good morning, Grimlock, what are you working on today?”
Grimlock didn’t look up from his instruments, but answered more promptly than he usually did when immersed in a project. “I Grimlock am studying the mechanism for bioluminescence in the dinoflagellate Noctiluca scintillans. It is one of the few chemical reactions completely new to Cybertronian science.”
“Oh, do please say that again,” Perceptor said. Grimlock stared at him.
“Are your auditory receptors malfunctioning?”
“Not at all. You simply have such a pleasant voice I wished to hear you say ‘Noctiluca scintillans’ again.” Perceptor beamed at him.
To Grimlock’s astonishment, he found himself fascinated by the particular arrangement and alignment of Perceptor’s face plates. His optics gleamed in a remarkably compelling manner. Like…Grimlock cast about for an apropos metaphor. Like twin stellar nebulae false-colored to enhance the x-ray spectrum, swimming in a space that was not lightless but silvery. Although perhaps polished aluminum was closer in color to Perceptor’s face. All that was neither here nor there and Grimlock had no idea why he should contemplate such nonsense. It would be disturbing if he had spent more than a single astrosecond on it.
“How are your dinoflagellates doing?” Perceptor asked, when the silence had gone on for a significant fraction of a breem. “They look happy enough. Eating their diatoms like good little plankton?” He leaned toward the columnar tank, lenses poised, though his optics lingered on Grimlock’s face.
“You are a strange mechanism,” Grimlock said. “But it would be boring if all people were the same.”
“Quite probable,” Perceptor agreed, smiling.
=+=+=+=+=+=
No one expected this kind of thinking from him. But after the fourth millennia of the war he had been programmed to assess tactical situations, and the basic logistics of his current quandary weren’t so very different. Normally he wasn’t this impatient in such matters, but time was a fickle friend these days.
It wasn’t difficult to find Grimlock alone. Most people could no longer follow Grimlock’s seemingly convoluted but simply very advanced discourse, so he was often left to his own admittedly remarkably useful devices. And as much as the Technobots loved their creator, they did have their own duties to perform. The tertiary hangar storage bay where Grimlock did a lot of his tinkering with shuttle parts would do nicely.
Currently, Grimlock had an entire Gravitic Fluoropositron Warp Emitter disassembled and arranged on a workbench and was cleaning, inspecting and slowly reassembling all the parts. Which meant, Perceptor had come to understand, that Grimlock was thinking deeply about something else entirely. Perceptor crossed the space, careful not to disturb any of the machinery lying about in various stages of invention, decrepitude or repair. He found a clear space on the workbench upon which to rest an elbow and waited until a slight pause in the motion of Grimlock’s hands indicated that at least some of Grimlock’s attention had shifted in his direction.
“The Energon converters in our bodies,” Perceptor began, as seductively as several million years of experience permitted, “convert virtually any other type of energy into the one exquisitely complex form we can use. But, Grimlock, what if,” he moved closer, lowered his voice, “what if we could change ourselves, transform ourselves so that we would not need that extra step? What if we could find a way not to need Energon at all?”
Grimlock dropped his hydrospanner.
“It’s not such a revolutionary idea, you know,” Perceptor continued. “Others have thought of it, including Alpha Trion himself. But no one yet has been able to make it work.”
Autobots had little concept of personal space - gestalts had none at all - but Grimlock had been practically tripping over Perceptor for months. And now he was…well, if Grimlock had a lap, Perceptor would be in it. It was a peculiarly pleasant proximity. The scientist bent down and retrieved the spanner, placing it in Grimlock’s hand. He didn’t let go.
Grimlock felt the contact leap like a static charge up his arm and across his chest. And suddenly Grimlock understood what was going on. What had been going on. He seized Perceptor by the shoulders - nice blocky shoulders, Pythagorean solids - and impelled him toward a clear area of floor, away from anything that was easily damaged. Expressions of love and friendship among the Dinobots generally involved a lot of sharp-edged mouths, twining tails, horns, spikes, body slams and laughter. Perceptor could not withstand such treatment. Grimlock supposed that employing a delicate touch, while perhaps frustrating, might also be quite interesting.
More than happy to take up his part in this dance, Perceptor stroked the sleek white metal of Grimlock’s slender arms. It was an intriguing contrast. The rest of Grimlock’s body had been constructed for sheer brute power, yet, like the organic model for his saurian mode, the arms were inexplicably gracile. There were three fingers on each hand, unlike the original’s two; as though somehow Wheeljack and Ratchet had known Grimlock would need greater dexterity.
“I…apologize for my unkind words to you the day I received my vast intelligence,” Grimlock said. “I now understand your frustration with Dinobot brains. I truly would never harm you, Perceptor; your brains, though limited compared to mine, are too valuable to the Autobots.” Grimlock paused. The Dinobots could function with higher internal temperatures than other Autobots, but the things his systems were doing were still disconcerting. It was difficult to concentrate on speaking.
“I never thought you meant it,” Perceptor admitted, trailing his fingertips across Grimlock’s chest. “If for no other reason than you knew it would upset Rodimus.” Though no part of Grimlock’s chassis was especially vulnerable, the red indentations along the caudal margin of his thorax seemed to be more sensitive than much of the rest of his armor, if the slight shivering Grimlock was responding with was any indication. “And I was rather more acerbic with you than was strictly necessary.” He leaned into the touch as Grimlock rather gingerly caressed his face.
Small movements, careful pressure, Grimlock reminded himself sharply, fighting the urge to bite, to taste. This was going to get dangerous. Must not throw Perceptor across the room to have the fun of leaping after him and landing in a snarling, giggling heap on the floor. No. The Power Core was deep, and it must have been more intimately linked to Vector Sigma than anyone realized, but there was nothing in the terrible span of knowledge Grimlock had gained that prepared him to control his body’s savage reflexes like this. He groaned, clenching his jaws shut.
Encouraged, Perceptor pressed closer, his light cannon tipped behind him, their armor clanging softly. He nestled his head under Grimlock’s chin, reaching his arms around the Dinobot’s torso as far as he could. It was wonderful to have someone so solid and warm to hold.
Grimlock kept still, not even needing to brace against Perceptor’s weight. His tail quivered, but he thought if he could keep his feet in place perhaps he could retain some measure of self-possession. Perceptor’s hands were too clever by far. The scientist needed distracting. Lenses. The lenses would be - would need to be - sensitive. Grimlock ran a single fingertip around the forward end of the light cannon. Perceptor gasped and arched against him. Of course. No one touched him there casually, not when he could pip the ace, so to speak, at a range of 2000 miles.
Stroking the length of the cannon’s housing, Grimlock paid special attention to the pivot, where the control wires emerged from Perceptor’s shoulder. Perceptor swung the cannon up, closer to reach. He clung to Grimlock, his smaller body giving off more heat than was recommended by the specifications of his size class. Grimlock liked the feel of him against his chest and belly; and liked the helpless-sounding little noises the scientist was making too, though perhaps that had more to do with Grimlock’s prey drive than was safe. But from the way Perceptor’s optics were flickering and his knees were buckling, he couldn’t be far from overload already.
The next thing he knew, Grimlock was flat on his back with a crash that shook the bay, Perceptor leaping nimbly on top of him. Perceptor hadn't bent his knees in weakness, he’d employed some kind of human judo move and flipped Grimlock completely over. The scientist extended a cervical cable - second closest to the CPU - and held up the gold-tipped end, cocking his head questioningly. “Swoop warned me about the usual Dinobot roughhousing,” Perceptor said gently, as Grimlock gaped at him. “You’ve been astoundingly restrained so far. Thank you. But Swoop also said you fellows rarely bother with cables. I’d like to, though, if it is agreeable to you?”
The only logical thing to do at this point was to open the panel just beneath the corner of his jaw to expose the port. Perceptor inserted the cable with a deft touch, unfurling the data link slowly. Letting Grimlock grow accustomed to the blooming of sensation and shared thoughts and emotions.
Centimeter by centimeter, Perceptor lowered himself till he was lying flat on Grimlock’s chest. Touch my lens endcap now, he prompted through the link, smiling.
Finding honest admiration and desire where he thought to find cleverly-buried jealousy, Grimlock complied. Power seared through his haptic circuits, rising and falling with Perceptor’s cries of pleasure. He didn’t want to stop touching Perceptor’s cannon, didn’t want to stop feeling what Perceptor felt as he did so. But there were many places on and in Perceptor’s body and mind that merited further, thorough investigation. Grimlock’s slender, clawed fingers slipped into narrow spaces where plates of armor overlapped at the joints.
Perceptor liked being explored. He moved in ways that made it easier. He hummed and sighed and laughed sometimes, low at the bottom of his vocal register when a touch crossed the short bridge from caress to tickle. He opened himself up so Grimlock could feel his liking, too.
Disconnecting the cable for a moment, Grimlock transformed to his more vulnerable and therefore sensitive robot mode - so swiftly and neatly Perceptor remained in place. Impressive, the scientist thrummed once the link was reestablished. It would not be possible for Perceptor to duplicate such a feat, but he took pleasure in Grimlock’s skill. Grimlock rolled them over, nuzzling the side of Perceptor’s helm; because Grimlock did not have a mouth made for kissing.
Limbs tangled, fingers scraping long lines down metal bodies, they sank into each other. Grimlock held Perceptor tight, trusting enough to give Perceptor access to all the knowledge he’d gained. In return, he found himself swimming through all the long eons of Perceptor’s experience. Joy and sorrow, the poignant and the absurd, commingling in their minds. Perceptor directed the energy flow at first, showing Grimlock how the rising spiral of thoughts enhanced rather than distracted from their physical pleasure.
Feeling the beginnings of the inexorable climb coursing through every circuit, Grimlock unhappily but deliberately places his hands on the floor to either side of Perceptor’s shoulders. His clenching fists would otherwise do damage and the shaking was already starting, core overheating, peripheral processors falling to static, everything twinned and amplified through the data link, and Perceptor’s body was so small and sweet beneath his, laser core so small to be so bright, mind so old to still hold such childlike wonder, and Perceptor laughed as power surged like a wave over their heads, tumbling them like schools of bright fish into the processor-storm of overload.
The insignia’s red matched the chassis beneath his head. Grimlock traced the outlines of that ancient, iconic face; his fingertip kept from actual contact by the transparent not-glass of Perceptor’s microscope-mode stage. Perceptor’s optics flickered on.
“One of the cornerstones of the scientific method is repeatable experiments,” Perceptor murmured, reaching up to caress Grimlock’s face.
“Indubitably,” Grimlock rumbled. And rolled them over again.
=+=+=+=+=+=
After the fourth overload, Perceptor didn’t come back online, slipping instead straight into recharge. Very well pleased indeed, Grimlock left the scientist where he was, faintly purring and draped across him like a cat.
=+=+=+=+=+=
“You’re modeling higher-cell four dimensional solids in your CPU, aren’t you,” Perceptor murmured. His optics were off. He moved nothing but his lip components and the small charge to his vocalizer, though he could feel his native briskness slowly returning.
“How can you tell?”
“Because I can feel you tracing edges and counting vertices on my hip.”
The swirling arcs made by Grimlock’s fingers halted for a moment, then resumed. “Ah.”
“Don’t stop. Do the 600 cell next.”
Grimlock chuckled, and drew the mandala of fourteen thousand and four hundred symmetries.
=+=+=+=+=+=
Since he wasn’t in the main hangar bay proper, Springer figured Grimlock must be in his “Tinkering Room” over on the north side. Something had gone wrong with the sensor array in the Epsilon Quadrant, and Rodimus wanted Springer to fly Grimlock out there to fix it ASAP. Springer came around a precarious stack of empty storage containers, peering through the open door. There was a lot of Grimlock’s junk in the way, but he thought he caught a glimpse of white metal arms moving. One bounding stride closer and he was sure.
White arms, white hands moving in lazy circles, glints of metallic red and teal. And someone’s dark grey aft. Springer clapped a hand over his optics and retreated with a reflexive leap, wishing to Prime he hadn’t seen what he’d seen, or heard that sleepy moan.
For the love of Vector Sigma, why couldn’t the two most brilliant minds on Cybertron have thought to close the slagging door?